S. Hurley Early each morning his coffee spills On his sneakers Which somehow reminds him last night He forgot to speak to her Puts it out of his mind He won't do it next time Somehow he has got to break these binds Driving to work, the irony makes him snicker 'Cause what's causing his problem is something that he went after Exaggerated victories Ramoured one out of three Now he thinks she's frightened, is she ' He's like an avalanche that's going the wrong way His mixed up merriment just keeps him going down
What he says is true isn't always what he sees Why does the caption say he might be me Later that night he looks at the phone unease He wonders if she'll understand what he means His imagined fears She probably thinks he is wierd Can he stand to have his desires mirrored When it comes down to this, things always take him back He can't seem to fight back his own attack He lives some story of a broken heart Which is really all all fiction and it never did start When his dreams approach he rips them apart